Of Fade Tears & Subtle Wit
by Lots-of-Little-Pink-Clouds
Summary: Sweet, sour, and everything in between. Collection of oneshots; Solavellan; Some spoilers
1. Crack

_Of which Lavellan cracks her knuckles, much to Solas' annoyance. What, did you think it was something else?_

* * *

**Crack**

Crack.

There it was, the rather loud, obnoxious sound of popping knuckles. Solas glanced at Lavellan out of the corner of his eye; the elven woman sheepishly shrugged her shoulders in response, her fingers curling together in her lap. When he was certain that the sound wouldn't continue, the elven apostate returned his attention to the book in front of him. _… of a certain magic, the very elves descended…_

Crack, crack, _crack_…

Solas sighed.

"_Vhenan_, must you?" The elven woman smiled shyly.

"_Ir abelas_, Solas," she replied, "I can't help it."

The elf in question simply sighed.

"Just… try to tone it down." The elf returned to his book.

Crack, crack, _crack_…

"Cracking your knuckles isn't good for your hands, _vhenan_."

"Yeah, I know. But still…" Another crack.

Solas sighed, closing his eyes in frustration.


	2. Dance

_The Orlesian Ball or rather How Lavellan Can Dance Really Well On the Battlefield, Off the Battlefield, at Court, as well as in Bed._

* * *

**Dance**

When he first met her, Solas knew that there was something different. It was a uniqueness that drew him in, a light in the shining darkness that was this present. And while she slept and he worked to keep her alive, he couldn't help but notice the way her closed eyes danced behind her eyelids, like she was in an active, living dream.

And when she woke, he found himself in awe. Never in his wildest dreams could he ever imagine meeting someone like her.

When she fought, her staff twirled in graceful arcs and lightning and ice and fire would dance in circles around her before blasting off towards their intended targets. She would twist and turn, raining down the very wrath of the heavens in the form of lightning [1] or would fade step across the battlefield to avoid a fatal hit. And much later, after she had learned the strict teachings of the Knight Enchanter, she would move swiftly, sidestepping and countering with a sharp blow from her spirit blade. The dance was deadly and fierce and filled with a fiery passion.

But the dance that she was performing now was just as deadly and sharp, yet with a bit of added cunning and flair.

The elven apostate found it actually kind of amusing (considering the fact that he felt slightly tipsy, and the elven servants of the Winter Palace just kept on refilling his glass) to watch the proud Dalish Inquisitor stumble around in her heavy and elaborate ball gown, mingling with the Orlesian nobles, gathering secrets for Leliana, and manipulating as she went. All the while, she had on that small, polite smile that he had come to associate with nobles. Ah, how he loved court intrigue.

And he could see rather clearly that she loved it too.

The way she danced around the nobles, twirling her hair with a finger, pouting ever so slightly, and the words laced with poison that came from her lips brought a smile to his own face as he noticed that the light within her eyes had gotten ever so brighter. She was enjoying herself, even as she wrapped every single noble around her pinky finger with a blink and a smile (though he had a feeling that it might actually have been the dress that made her feel so confident; she had been ever so delighted to find that she got to wear one). The look on her face, the light in her eyes, and the way she danced and played the Grand Game against the Orlesian nobles with wicked eyes and wicked hearts [2] like a professional made it hard for him to take his eyes off her.

She was enrapturing.

It was about midway through the party when she finally strode over to him, the polite smile slowly morphing into the one that he was most familiar with; a smile of utter delight and happiness. He took some pride in the fact that she didn't smile like that with anyone but him.

"Enjoying yourself?" she asked. He smirked, raising his glass ever so slightly.

"I do adore the heady blend of power, intrigue, danger, and sex that permeates these events," he replied before taking a sip. She gave a slight giggle.

"You're drunk."

"Perhaps," Solas shrugged, smiling still, "Though I found that it didn't seem to really matter after the third or fourth glass. The servants have been quite happy to refill it." That drew another laugh from her. She smiled up at him, batting her eyelashes ever so slightly (the cheeky minx, she knew what that did to him) and placed a hand on his arm.

"Do you like dancing?"

"A great deal… Though dancing with an elven apostate would win you few favors with the court." She pouted, making him smirk. "Perhaps when our business here is done?" At this, she gave an eager nod, to his amusement. Then, with a quick glance around, Lavellan quickly pressed a kiss to his cheek. It was an unspoken promise of future things to come, one that he couldn't help but inwardly chuckle at.

"I'll be back," she said, winking as she turned and walked away.

"Hunt well," he replied, swallowing thickly. He lifted his glass once more to hide the now feral grin that came over his face.

That was another dance that she was particularly good at.

* * *

[1] _"Those who oppose thee_

_Shall know the wrath of heaven._

_Field and forest shall burn,_

_The seas shall rise and devour them,_

_The wind shall tear their nations_

_From the face of the earth,_

_Lightning shall rain down from the sky,_

_They shall cry out to their false gods,_

_And find silence."_

Andraste 7:19

[2] _"The Old Gods will call to you,_

_From their Ancient Prisons they will sing._

_Dragons with wicked eyes and wicked hearts,_

_On blacken'd wings does deceit take flight,_

_The First of My children, lost to night."_

Silence 3:6


	3. Selfish

_Solavellan Angst (Or rather How Both of Them are Selfish Even as They Try to Make it Work)_

* * *

**Selfish**

Solas was selfish.

He would be the first to ever tell you that if you were to ask him. He wanted things he could never have and held those things he could keep close.

It was something that he made sure wouldn't get out of control. But when she kissed him for that first time, he found that something in him had snapped and he kissed her back. Later, he had replied that he wasn't sure it was a good idea. But she wanted to try, and so, he was willing to think about it. It brought about many sleepless nights, of him simply tossing and turning and trying to wrap his mind around it.

And when he finally managed to fall asleep, he found that his friend, a spirit of Wisdom, had been captured by humans.

She had helped him then without hesitation and he realized that he was willing to try to make it work. But he had so many secrets that he couldn't share with her, no matter how much he wanted to.

That was why it wasn't working. Another day where he sees the unspoken pain in her eyes, the pain that always cropped in whenever she asked him about his past and he would reply cryptically, always dodging and never directly answering her questions was another day where he could feel her hurt and silent crying in the Fade at night while they slept. He could feel her sadness whenever she wanted to say something, but couldn't.

He wanted to stay with her for as long as he lived, but then he realized how selfish he was being. How his distance was only hurting her.

So he ended it. But she told him not to go, that she wanted him to stay. And when he looked into her tear-filled eyes, he say the fear and hurt and anger bottled up inside.

And that was when he realized that she was just as selfish as he was.


	4. Jealousy

_Solas tries not to let it bother him, but he can't help but be annoyed at all those vying for Lavellan's attention._

* * *

**Jealousy**

It had been a perfectly normal day, well, as normal as any one of Lavellan's days have been since she got that blasted Mark on her hand. Fighting bandits, courier missions, and then the fancy and elaborate Orlesian ball at Halamshiral to end the day off. Like she said: perfectly normal. But one thing that wasn't quite normal was a certain bald elven apostate mage scowling; well, Solas scowling was quite normal, but the nature behind his scowling was different than it usually was.

Solas scowled at a lot of things, Sera's comments and tea immediately coming to the forefront of her mind. Most of the time, Lavellan is able to calm him down with a kiss to the cheek, a bit of nuzzling, or her hands finding their way to his shoulders and giving him a massage, usually in that order. However, this time, her favorite elven Fade expert seemed to be quietly simmering and nothing she could do would calm him down.

Her pouting seemed to have gotten his attention for he turned from the fresco of the Winter Palace that he had been working on.

"_Vhenan_? Is something the matter?" Lavellan shrugged.

"I really should be asking you that," she replied. Before he could respond, she continued, "You seem to be slightly ang- well, not angry per say, but irritated." Solas gave a sigh, setting down his paint brush and making his way over to her.

"I can never be angry with you, _vhenan_," he said, sitting down onto the sofa next to her and putting an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. She looked up at him.

"Then what are you upset about?"

"It's really nothing, _vhenan_." He was trying to dodge the subject again. Lavellan gave a pout, reaching up from under his arms and wrapping her own arms around his neck.

"You sure?" She tucked her head under his chin. He gave a barely noticeable shudder before wrapping his arms around her.

"Positive." The two sat like that for a time before Solas pulled back. Lavellan blinked in slight confusion before his hands cupped her face and he kissed her.

It was a hot, fiery kiss, and she would swear that it was slightly possessive. He bit her lip before moving to her neck, placing open mouth kisses on her exposed skin. She let out a soft moan as his kisses neared the tip of her ear (hazily, she sent an apology to Dorian if he could hear what they were doing) when he pulled back.

"Mine." It was a hissed whisper before his lips met hers once again. Then suddenly she understood, and her heart swelled in such happiness that she smiled against his lips.

"Yours."

He seemed to relax, his kisses becoming oh so sweet, and Lavellan was reminded again as to how much she loves him. Plus, now she had something to tease him about.


	5. Tea

_Lavellan likes tea, especially when she can taste it on Solas' tongue._

* * *

**Tea**

He kissed her; it was slow, sensual, and sweet. When his tongue darted out to lick her lips, she gave a soft, happy moan, letting the muscle into her mouth. She could taste the tea that he had been drinking earlier, much to her delight.

Lavellan loved tea.

Green tea, Orlesian tea, Antivan tea, she loved them all. Which is why she was so happy to hear that Solas drank tea, only to later become confounded as to the fact that he didn't like it. It confused her, but she accepted it; it made Solas, well, Solas. She made it a point whenever he drank the stuff in front of her to ask if she could have some; she had been doing it ever since that time he asked her for help with his spirit friend.

But never had he ever actually given her any to try. And in such a creative way too!

They pulled back to take a breath. Solas was looking at her, raising an eyebrow even as his chest heaved.

"Well? Does that satisfy your curiosity, _vhenan_?"

Somehow, she had ended up in his lap (and she wasn't sure exactly how she had gotten there, to be quite honest) while he sat in the chair at her desk in her quarters (he had been working on something there with her, but she couldn't quite remember what it was) with her arms around his neck. Lavellan was silently glad that the two hadn't been in the rotunda otherwise she had no doubt that Dorian would be shamelessly watching and waiting to comment. She took the question in stride, smiling.

"Not really," she replied, blinking up at him. He smirked.

"Then I believe," his voice lowered about another octave, making her shudder, "that you might need a reminder…"

She giggled as he kissed her again.


	6. Dream

_Solas dreams of a world rich with magic, a world where the oppressed are free. Lavellan promises that she'll try her hardest to make that dream come true._

* * *

**Dream**

As she listened to him talk, Lavellan would notice how his eyes lit up as he described the beauty of Arlathan that he had managed to see while journeying through the Fade. Crystal spires and palaces that glowed under the beauty that were the stars above; magic in every being and all around. She had called it beautiful, something which Solas agreed with.

But, he seemed so sad when he said that.

When she asked him about the magic, he said that every being had been able to use it, some more than others of course, but everyone had been able to use it. It was so much more different than the present, the magic was gone and those who had it were persecuted. Seeing him contain that anger made her believe that it wasn't like that in the golden age of the elves. And so, she made a promise to herself and to him.

From what she could tell, his dream was to actually see that old magic, to feel it in his grasp, to wield it maybe. And she would try her damn hardest to make that dream of his come true.

No matter what it took.


	7. Dresses

_Lavellan likes Orlesian dresses but can't decide what to wear; Solas thinks she looks beautiful in anything._

* * *

**Dresses**

She pursed her lips.

Her eyes drifted to the one on the right; the blue lace and thick silver embroidery brought out her eyes. It had a plunging neckline, much to her slight embarrassment. A broach made of pure diamond (how Josephine had gotten that, she had no idea) would be used to pin up her hair and she would have to wear a pair of nine inch blue heels (she didn't dare argue with Leliana when that woman gave her a look of _pure venom_ that basically stated that she would kill her if she didn't wear them).

The dress didn't come with a mask and they didn't have time to make one, so she would have to go without (Josephine, Vivienne, and Leliana mentioned how the court would disapprove, and they really couldn't afford that). And she had also heard from Leliana that Empress Celene would be wearing a blue dress (she decided not to question that statement as she has heard weirder things) and it would be considered scandalous by the court if she ended up wearing the same _color_.

Orlesians.

Her eyes turned to look at the one on the left; it was made of dark green velvet, the finest in all of Orlais (or was it Antivan silk? She didn't rightly know). Instead of a plunging neckline though (thank the Creators), it had almost no back (she took back her thanks and replaced it with cursing). It's not as though that bothered her, but she could already see the trailing eyes of the male nobility if she were to wear it (it might have been her own preferences, cause she herself thought backs were really sexy, but she had asked some of her Inner Circle and most of them had admitted that they found backs to be really, really fine as well).

A clip made of gold, embroidered with emeralds would pin up her hair (further embarrassing her about the Back Situation) and she would have to wear a pair of emerald (not green, _emerald_, as Leliana had stressed) heels (nine inches, again) with yellow bows. This dress came with a mask; a half-mask with feathers of yellow and green spilling from the sides while the mask itself was white, bordered with gold. But the problem was with that dress was that the velvet was itchy. And it was really heavy. She doubted it would be useful in a fight.

She gave a slight huff, frowning.

"Is something the matter, _vhenan_?" Lavellan's irritation quickly transformed into a smile as she turned to see Solas had entered her quarters, book in hand.

"Solas! I need your help." He raised an eyebrow, making his way over.

"Is there something wrong, Lavellan?"

"Which dress should I wear?" The elven apostate blinked.

"Pardon?" She sighed, gesturing to the dresses before her.

"For the ball at Halamshiral," she explained, "Leliana and Josephine want me to wear a dress. I'm just glad I get to choose, but I'm not sure which one."

Solas looked over each dress. He had assumed his usual thinking pose, making Lavellan inwardly grin to herself.

"What have Sister Leliana and Lady Montilyet said about them?"

Lavellan sighed before listing the materials each are made of, the details (mask or no mask?, blue or green?), practical usefulness (Leliana admitted that sometimes the Grand Game got violent, especially at events such as this), as well as the low neckline vs low back. The elven apostate tapped his chin before shrugging.

"I'm sure you know that fashion isn't really my area of expertise," he said slowly. Lavellan brought a hand up to her forehead, rubbing it. This had proved to be rather tiring.

"Well, which one do _you_ prefer?" He blinked.

"I think you look beautiful in anything." At this, she gave a laugh, making a smile come onto Solas' face.

"That's so sweet of you," she said, smiling, with a slight blush. "But I need to figure this out before the next meeting otherwise Leliana and Josephine will have my hind." Solas moved over to her, wrapping her in his arms. She sighed into his warmth.

"Well then," he said, "Let's take a look at them again."

They ended up going with the green one.


	8. Forget

_Cole wants to help Lavellan after Solas leaves, but she doesn't want to forget._

* * *

**Forget**

She was his… friend.

Cole believed that that was the word. But words were a bit weird and he would never truly understand. Lavellan taught him that it was okay not to understand; that's why you learn. She told him to help others, no matter what it took (though even she would cringe at some of the methods he had to employ). And when it came down to it, she told him it was better to forgive; but that didn't mean that he had to forget.

To forget. That was the method that Cole used when he had to actually become involved and he didn't want them to remember seeing him; all that matters was that he helped those who hurt.

And Lavellan was hurt.

She hid it well, well, as well as a person who was hurting could. Her smile wasn't entirely the same and the light that he had first seen shine so brightly had dimmed. But she endured, she kept pushing on. And although she kept going on, pretending that she was fine, Cole knew the truth.

She was hurting.

He had talked to Varric because Cole knew that the dwarf was worried about her. Varric said that he had seen her wander into the rotunda, and though she claimed to have been visiting Dorian (which was true, half of the time), he could recall that he could hear crying. Cole spoke to Dorian for he was worried about her too. Dorian claimed that he would sometimes notice how she would just wander where _he_ once stood, looking at the different frescos with a sad, sad expression on her face.

Cole wanted to help.

However, even when Solas was here, and Lavellan wanted to know why he ended it, and when Cole even tried to help, Solas wouldn't say why. He didn't explain himself. And even though he promised answers for her, he simply left. And she hurt because of that.

Cole decided on how he wanted to help. So, he asked her.

"Do you want to forget?" Lavellan had looked at him, and then gave a sad smile.

"No."

Cole wanted to know why because isn't it better to just forget the pain and the suffering? She had replied that if she forgot, she might forget all the good things she and Solas had, and she didn't want that. She wanted to remember him as he was, for his memory was a part of her now.

Cole didn't understand. But he decided that he would keep the option open to her and help her in other ways.


	9. Memory

_Solas recalls a memory in a dream but realizes upon waking up that Lavellan's been dead for years._

AN: Slight spoilers for the end of the game. Also slight AU, so please, don't hate me too much…

* * *

**Memory**

They were holding hands; her small one in his much larger one. Solas felt slightly nervous, worried that he would end up crushing her in his grip. She didn't seem to mind though, that happy smile that he was so familiar with on her face as they wandered. That's all they did, and he could feel a warmth bubbling in his chest.

He was happy.

Yes, Solas could definitely tell that he was happy, and what a strange feeling it was. He could recall a feeling of elation and relief, but not happiness. He could recall determination and perseverance, but not happiness. He could recall sadness, anger, denial, and pain and agony, but not happiness.

It was… nice.

Lavellan gasped in a sound of wonder and delight before letting go of his hand and rushing to a bush of beautiful flowers; blue roses, her favorite. Solas chuckled, taking long, striding steps as she beckoned him over. The elven apostate watched as she gently plucked one of the roses from its stem and breathed in its scent. He smiled, taking it from her hand. As she pouted, he placed the rose behind her ear, brushing back her hair.

She blushed. Solas loved it when Lavellan blushed.

But as he leaned in to kiss her, suddenly the world turned dark and fire sprang up all around him.

The world was burning and he could hear the laughter of Falon'Din as he and his brother Dirthamen danced in the blood of their slaves, and the sound of Andruil's cackling as she hunted elf after elf, human after human, none knowing mercy under her arrows. And the sound of Elgar'nan's rage consuming yet another, and the sound of June's sharp, steel hammer as he slammed it down upon those who anger him.

And finally, Sylaise' fire, all consuming, burning and turning everything to ash.

But it was the screams that got to him the most. The screams of the victims and the dying. But Solas found that it wasn't anything compared to the screams that Lavellan was emitting as she burned in the flames of her patron goddess' fire.

* * *

Solas woke up.

He could feel the sweat that had broken out on his forehead. With wide eyes, Solas looked around and found that the tree he slept under was blackened and shriveled. The sky above was a bloody red haze and smoke emitted from the city farther away. The screams of the People reverberated all around him in a crescendo of sound. And as he saw that, he remembered.

Lavellan had been dead for a long time, killed on Elgar'nan's orders for the transgressions that Solas had been guilty of hundreds of thousands of years ago. And upon pleading for his own death, Elgar'nan let him live.

Solas wept for what his pride had wrought.


	10. Smile

_Lavellan loves to smile, but finds it more difficult to as the years go by and Solas hasn't returned._

* * *

**Smile**

Lavellan was always smiling.

Usually to reassure, to show her happiness. When the situation calls for it, she's serious, but otherwise, Lavellan is always smiling.

She loves to smile and laugh with her friends. And she loves Solas.

She smiled with him more than anyone else. And then, he broke her heart.

He took her _vallaslin_ (though she wasn't sure if what he said is the truth), telling her that she was free. She was free of her bonds, the slave brand on her face. And she could see now that he also meant that she was free of him. And that hurt her.

She still smiles, though it's not as bright, as Cole said.

And she keeps smiling, even when the news of his disappearance hurts her and tears at her even more.

But she keeps telling herself that she must endure.

So, she keeps on smiling. It gets harder and harder as the years go by, but she keeps on smiling. However, it isn't long before her smile begins to crumble until she just can't bring herself to do it anymore. No matter what her friends do, that can't make her smile return. She's locked in a box of eternal despair and can't bring herself out of it.

But one day, Leliana reports that they have found Solas' trail. And at that moment, Lavellan promises herself that when she finds him, after giving him a slap across the face and a harsh kiss, she'll smile a real, true smile.


End file.
